


Succor

by waywardrose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dirty Talk, F/M, Princess reader, Royalty, Supreme Leader Armitage Hux, The First Order Wins (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: You felt your dinner guests’ eyes on you, their judgements. You ignored them while hiding behind the courtly rituals you’d been taught since childhood.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Reader, Armitage Hux/You
Comments: 17
Kudos: 163





	Succor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AzureFangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureFangirl/gifts).



You felt your dinner guests’ eyes on you, their judgements. You ignored them while hiding behind the courtly rituals you’d been taught since childhood. Next to you, Armitage Hux—your husband of less than six standard months—discussed weaponry the First Order was developing with a dignitary to his left. He was lively and jovial and everything your parents had bargained for.

Armitage was a fair man. You weren’t sure he was kind, though he’d been kind to you thus far. He was generous. He made sure you had a private suite and free rein to decorate it how you wished. He allowed you comforts. Namely, an orange kitten named Millicent. He gave you or Millicent small presents at regular intervals.

He joined you most evenings for an hour of dinner and conversation. You could tell this was his attempt at being a good husband.

And you appreciated it. You read political essays and kept abreast of diplomatic affairs to be a proper dinner companion. At first, Armitage had been surprised by your expertise. You were surprised by his shrewdness, but you shouldn’t have been.

He’d added a marriage to you on the second day of negotiations. You didn’t know if he’d researched your education, or if he knew how valuable you’d made yourself to your mother, your queen. You were next for the throne, and a marriage to you guaranteed the Thanium System when she stepped down.

It was a sound decision on both parties. Thanium received certain concessions and freedoms. The First Order acquired shipyards, factories, and access to vast mineral deposits. You stood by your mother’s decision, though it privately horrified you. A marriage into a military junta was dangerous. If they were ever defeated, you would be held as a political prisoner. Thanium would descend into turmoil without a head of state—or worse yet, be dragged into another galactic war.

Nevermind what would happen to your children.

Though, that was hardly an issue at this point. You hadn’t consummated the marriage.

Armitage was a striking man with beautiful gray-green eyes, copper hair, and even, pleasing features. He was intelligent, tall and dignified, and always ready with a well-placed bon mot.

Despite all that, you didn’t know if you could be with him like that. You knew it was your duty, but Armitage had yet to mention sharing a bed. The first and only kiss with him was during the nuptials. It had been a delightful, easy kiss. His lips had been soft and plump. He’d cradled your cheek in his hand, and had given you such a tender, possessive look as to make your heart skip.

You wondered if it was all for show, though, if he wanted you at all. Oh, he wanted what you symbolized and the power you could bring. He wanted provisions your system could supply. You didn’t know if he took your insights at dinner seriously, if he thought of you as more than a prize.

You were dressed up as one now in a blood-red velvet gown with your mother’s rubies at your neck. As the embodiment of the First Order’s ascension, you had to stand in front of the judging guests to give a speech. Then there was dessert and dancing.

The main course was nearly over. The food sat in your stomach like lead. You mentally recited the speech you helped write again and again. It had to feel natural, like you were speaking from the heart.

After the droids cleared the dishes, you put on a pleased look and stood on numb legs next to your chair. The guests quieted, turning towards you almost as one. It was unnerving, but you directed your attention to maintaining your composure.

“Good evening, friends, supporters, and defenders of lawful peace. It is an extraordinary honor to provide respite from the struggle that is bringing order to the galaxy. Your efforts do not go unseen. We are inspired every day by your sacrifice, discipline, and dedication.”

You remembered the cue to look at Armitage and gave him a warm smile.

He replied with a pleasant look of agreement.

You took a breath before continuing, “With our combined commitment, we will inspire the galaxy. The First Order will achieve peace—for all! Despite the difficult decades living in the Unknowns, we will overcome ignorance and rebellion. We did not do it alone, then. And we cannot do it alone, now.

"Together…” You nodded, seeing many of the guests nodding with you. “Today, we strengthen our alliances. We come to create and build _together_ a solid foundation for the changing galaxy. There are discoveries yet to unlock, mysteries to explain, technology—” You gave Armitage a scripted indulgent look. “—to create.”

He offered an amused yet acknowledging shrug, for everyone at the dinner knew your husband was an engineer at heart.

“We stand together through moments of difficulty and pain, triumphs and success. We will never forget those who endure, nor those whom we’ve lost.” You look around the large ballroom and smile. “My friends, may we never forget we are what the galaxy needs.

"We are hope! We are strength! We are tomorrow! We are the First Order!”

The guests cheered and raised their wine glasses. You plucked your glass from the table to toast them and then turned to your husband.

He stood, put a hand at the small of your back, and kissed your cheek. It felt unlike his other public displays of affection, though outwardly it was no different. There was something lingering in his touch and look. A new heat flooded your chest, fluttery and delicate.

Armitage addressed the room, “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

You knew this was the signal to sit to let him say a few words. He began by thanking you. He then hinted at the projects and plans that were to be presented in the coming days. While he spoke, you hid your trembling hands in your lap.

The golden wine served with dessert was flavorless. You tried to mask your shallow breathing as you nibbled at the oversweet slice of quinberry cake.

Speeches had never been your favorite activity. However, it seemed no one was the wiser. The guests sitting near spoke with you about philanthropic endeavors. You were invited to an upcoming fundraising gala on Cantonica.

Just as you accepted, Armitage offered you his hand. The swing-bop band was heading into an upbeat classic. You excused yourself, smiling at your husband, and took his hand. You wobbled on your feet, and he caught your elbow.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked.

“No…” You shook your head and thought of an excuse. “That wine is strong.”

You had to get through a few turns around the dancefloor, perhaps a couple of introductions, and you would be free.

“Strong, yet fine,” he agreed and led you through the rounded maze of banquet tables.

He held you close—too close for such a formal event—as he gracefully whirled you both around the floor. Propriety dictated there should be at least a few centimeters between dance partners. However, you didn’t want to make a scene. This was your husband, after all. It was assumed he knew your body very well at this point.

And you his.

You felt the firmness of his thighs as they brushed yours. Your breasts pressed against his taut chest. His sinewy arms held you fast, and his long-fingered hands were warm.

“You’re exquisite,” he murmured in your ear.

Your breath caught. “Y-you, too.”

It wasn’t an elegant reply, but it was true. He looked impressive in his black dress uniform with its silver braid details. The red sash under his tooled leather belt and ornate holster highlighted the line of his lean torso. He looked every inch a celebrated leader.

“I know you’re not comfortable with compliments, my love.” He gave your waist a squeeze. “But you’re beautiful every day.”

Your face blazed with a mix of emotions. “Armitage, I…”

You didn’t know what to say. Ducking your head, you tried to hide how he affected you. He called you _his love,_ said you were _beautiful._ You were taught to take compliments with ease, or divert them to a larger cause or situation. But you couldn’t seem to do that with him. He _flustered_ you—like no one had before.

He slowed. “You seem a bit peaked. Are you sure you’re well?”

You finally met his eyes and were floored by the heat in them. If it weren’t for his hold, you’d have tripped. Suitors had wanted you, inappropriate crushes had flirted, but none of them looked at you like this. And you liked it.

Armitage’s cheeks were tinged pink. “Let me escort you to your quarters. Everyone will understand.”

You swallowed with a nod.

He wrapped a solicitous arm around your back. You put a hand on your upper chest to play along. He made his excuses to the few attendants and walked you out of the bustling ballroom.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you whispered as guards flanked you both. “Our duty…”

“My duty is to take care of my wife. You’re ill, and I need to attend to you.”

“But—”

“They’ll see us tomorrow.”

He pressed a thumb to the lockpad for the door to your shared quarters. “I must assure you make a full recovery.”

The lights automatically brightened as you stepped inside the shared living space. Armitage gave orders to the guards as Millicent merped in greeting and rushed over for pets. You indulged her, stroking her back as she rubbed against your skirt. Your tension melted away as you yielded to her feline demands.

Behind you, the door slid closed and the locks clicked into place.

When Millicent was satisfied, she head-bumped your leg before trotting back to her little domed bed by the sofa. You straightened and managed to give Armitage a grin.

He didn’t return your grin. Instead, he stalked you back to the wall with measured steps and smoldering eyes.

As your shoulders touched the cool wall, you studied him. His eyes didn’t only hold lust. You saw a genuine affection there. He was _proud_ of you. Not because you’d done well, but because you were his wife.

“What do you need?” he softly asked. “To feel better?”

You glanced at his lips. You didn’t know how to ask for what you wanted. Not like this.

You reached for him, putting your hands at his waist. He stepped closer. So close, you could see the green gradient of his irises. His cologne was faint and crisp yet warm. You wanted to lean in to follow it along his pale neck.

He murmured, “Show me where it hurts.”

You touched your lips. While you didn’t hurt anywhere, you _ached._ You ached to be kissed and touched and held—not by anyone else but him.

Armitage held your face in a gentle hand as he slowly moved in. He watched your reaction, but it was unnecessary. You wouldn’t turn away. You wanted this.

You closed your eyes and tipped your head in surrender. When the first touch of his lips came, it was soft—like his lips. You moved with him and kissed him back. His head angled a little more and his lips parted. You reeled as you followed his lead. Kissing wasn’t new, but kissing like this was.

His tongue brushed your lower lip. You gasped, and he took the advantage. He coaxed you into open-mouthed kisses. He moved his body with the kiss, rolling against your front.

You could only hang onto him. It felt so good. He slithered an arm around the small of your back and urged you tight to him. Your instinct was to draw a leg up around him. You wanted him closer, between your legs. You needed to know how his body felt weighing you down on a mattress.

Armitage dared to hold the underside of your rear. It was wholly improper, yet had you arching your back for more. You wanted him to touch you everywhere.

“I’ve been wanting this since I saw you,” he whispered. “Knew you’d feel right in my arms.”

He kissed you again. The hand on your cheek smoothed down your neck, over your upper chest. Then he cupped your breast, fondled you, squeezed your flesh. Even through the heavy velvet of your gown, his touch burned.

You hiccuped a groan and fisted the shoulder of his uniform. He bent to kiss your throat, using soft lips and nipping teeth. You felt on fire and you weren’t even undressed.

“Delicious,” he purred in your ear.

You sighed, “Kiss me, please.”

And he did. He ravished you and held the nape of your neck. He rocked his hips against you, encouraging you to move with him. His tongue teased yours as you writhed against his hard body.

“Will you let me show you?” he asked. “Let me make it better.”

He gripped your hips and brought your bodies together.

“Let me fill you up. Let me make you come.”

Your head swam at his words, but you nodded just the same.

“I’m going to touch you everywhere; kiss you, taste you, everywhere.” His lips ghosted over yours. “You’ll moan for me, my princess, when I push my cock deep inside you.”

You whimpered at Armitage’s vulgarity.

“I’ll take my time, take you slow. Would you like that?”

You could see it: his rangy body between your legs, his red hair tousled from your fingers, his lips swollen from kisses. Those lovely eyes of his dark with desire—for you.

You nodded.

His grip tightened on your neck. “Tell me.”

“I want it—you,” you softly admitted.

“How do you want me?”

You didn’t know how to answer. All you knew was that you never wanted him to stop. You wanted all of him. You struggled for a word or phrase that would be sufficient, finally landing on:

“Merciless.”

He grinned, lovingly sharp and hungry.

“I can do that,” he replied before walking you to his suite to show you how capable, and merciless, he could be.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com)


End file.
